


Every Day After

by bklt



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Anxiety, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-07 21:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15227898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bklt/pseuds/bklt
Summary: Shepard always felt stressed, of course. It was only a matter of how much it stretched past the back of her head to her now shaking hands, when even she fell into moments of weakness she couldn’t afford.With the battle for Earth looming ever closer, Shepard's fears are finally catching up to her. In her moment of need, she looks to the people she trusts the most.





	1. The Commander

The forest was familiar, though she had never been there before.

It was an Earth forest—of that much she was certain. The trees around her were dried out and dead, the crunching leaves the only noise as she trudged along to nowhere, her steps slow but floating on the peat.

The heaviness of her armour was usually a comfort. The carbon fiber glinted even in the foggy dark of the forest, the red and white stripe that marked her as N7 worn proudly down her right arm. Here, it only dragged her down.

It still surprised her no matter how many times she heard it: the distinctive crying of a small boy and the patter of quick footsteps in the distance, rabbit-like and frightened. She ran to it like she always did, never gaining ground but still drawing closer.

Through the trees: _Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong._

An atonal metallic roar made both of them double over, the ground shaking beneath their feet from the overwhelming noise that pierced into their heads. The boy clasped his hands over his ears, trying to peer through the canopy of trees for the monster responsible for the sound. When it was over, he ran again, not looking up at her.

In the sky: _It’s the right choice and you know it, Ash._

Her breath grew heavy in her helmet, laboured and ragged as her legs drew her forward, automatic and too slow.

Behind her: _Kalahira, mistress of the depths…_

Familiarity dictated that she was getting closer, a clearing ahead where the boy knelt and looked into the distance. Her lungs inhaled fire and smoke. She remembered what it was like to die.

And everywhere:

_Shepard._

The boy finally turned around, his eyes wide and cold at her presence. _It’ll be alright_ , she wanted to say, but could only extend a frantic hand as he stood, unmoving, even when flames started to surround his tiny form. Still he stared, unworried and peaceful as the fire moved to engulf him. She wanted to yell, to express anything, but her body betrayed her from basic movement.

So she stood and watched.

* * *

 

Shepard awoke with a start.

Her eyes snapped open to a blank ceiling, momentarily forgetting where she was. She expected the viewport of the _Normandy_ ’s captain’s quarters above her, where she watched the stars slide by without comment, a compass in the dark black of space. Letting reality sink back, she exhaled and swung her legs over the bed, her head in her hands as she fought the pressure building behind her eyes. The same nightmare was throwing her off again, made worse by waking up in an unfamiliar space.

 _It could be worse,_ she thought. _At least it wasn’t the vision again._

It was 1300 hours according to her alarm clock, though time didn’t mean much lately. She caught sleep when she could, but whether or not it was restful was another matter entirely. Like every other day since she found the Prothean beacon on Eden Prime, she would have to run on empty.

She grabbed the dress uniform hanging neatly over her chair, which she had pressed and prepared the night before. The dark blue material and gold piping of high ranking Alliance Military officers looked good on her, and she’d earned it. There wasn’t a reason to wear it here: but it felt familiar, and there was no telling who she might run into. Being the most famous human in the galaxy tended to attract more attention than she’d like. Even so, she wasn’t sure what type of clothing she would wear even given the option. Personal style wasn’t something she had to think about since she enlisted at eighteen. She ran her hand through her short hair, the once tight buzz cut grown in enough to form tight black coils. Maybe she’d get a haircut while there was still time.

The view from the top of the stairs still impressed her. It was a beautiful apartment, the architecture and design reminiscent of the modern, expensive houses of 21st century homes on Earth. Gorgeous installations and abstract art pieces graced each room (the waterfall was her favourite), with amber accented walls on the upper floor stretching up to the high ceiling. The more natural elements were easily the most expensive, with a price tag to match: importing the plants, rocks, and wood from Earth must have cost a fortune.

Best of all, it was hers—a generous gift from Admiral Anderson—however long that would last. He wasn’t planning on coming back. Or, more accurately, he didn’t expect to. Shepard wished she didn’t share in his realism.

A handwritten note was waiting for her on the counter when she entered the kitchen:

 _Shepard,_  
_  
Out for a while. Have fun today._

A small smile spread on her lips. Shepard had learned a little bit of the Asari language while being held in Vancouver. While certainly not fluent, it was enough to read the messy scrawl of the archaeologist who left it. It seemed that the chicken scratch of doctors, no matter the profession or species, was a universal truth. Liara returned the favour by signing Shepard’s name in English, the letters a little too perfect and likely drawn by reference.

Handwritten notes on physical paper almost never happened. Beyond translation issues, writing was rendered archaic for almost every species as soon as they discovered mass relays and hit the Citadel. It made for the perfect gesture, and its intended effect worked, if for a moment. Not even Liara’s brief note could keep Shepard from feeling the stress that had only grown since she had woken up.

She always felt stressed, of course. It was only a matter of how much it stretched past the back of her head to her now shaking hands, when even she fell into moments of weakness she couldn’t afford. Everything loomed ever closer—the Reapers, Cerberus, the Crucible—and old tricks and mental health techniques for keeping her grounded and healthy fell painfully short at a time like this.

Frowning, she pressed on the holographic screen of the stereo system to the next song, the upbeat analog synths echoing distantly through the apartment. Nothing she heard was satisfying. Time slipped away as she stood there for an uneventful half hour.

The empty silence of the apartment was making her restless, and combating it with music wasn’t helping. She was used to hearing the constant hum of ships or the ambient noise that came with sharing a living space with other people. Privacy was a curtain or a floor apart from other crew members—if she was lucky.

However, being alone was something she looked forward to enjoying, and the new apartment reminded her of how she envied people with spaces they could truly call their own. Shepard had gotten so used to the cramped, standard metal rooms of Alliance ships and stations that her quarters on the _Normandy_ might as well have been a palace. She was quick to add model ships and fill her wall-sized aquarium with fish all over the galaxy as an attempt to add personality to the room. But her bed was hard and the floor was cold, and it was hard to ignore now that the first hurdle of domestic life had been taken care of for her; she had a home.

As cliché as it was, Shepard always thought she’d settle down somewhere quieter on Earth, away from everything so she could find some semblance of peace. But living on the Citadel would always be interesting, the perfect mix between settling down and the excitement she craved. There would always be somewhere to go and she would still never see it all, with its cities and districts spanning endlessly across its give metallic limbs and Presidium ring. Her apartment was the biggest she had seen, and bigger than most houses: a sizeable kitchen, a living room, a study, a bar, and two spare rooms for when the time came…

The thought was dropped like a piece of hot metal in her hand. Shepard above everyone believed it was healthy to remain open to the future when the next day was never a guarantee, and she told many the same thing. It was easy to lose track of why they fought, to fall victim to the terrible rhythm of survival instinct. There needed to be a glimmer of what it was all for, something to look forward to when it seemed like there was nothing. But Shepard couldn’t work up the strength to feel convinced by her own words. The swirling in her head was getting worse.

The music stopped with a frustrated sigh. She needed to clear her head before Liara came back.

* * *

 

Stepping out of the elevator into the busy Silversun Strip felt like emerging from underwater and being suddenly hit by noise. Thousands of people from all species gathered, basking in the colour glow of the monolithic holoscreens and signs that made up every wall and surface of the strip. It was the sound of millions of people living lives as unsure as hers, full of anxieties they couldn’t voice. They turned to the sensory overload of neon lights, music, and targeted advertisements to drown out the doubts in their heads—just as Shepard was doing now.

Yet, life went on, and it was evident here. People played games at the arcade and gambled away at the Silver Coast, and the queue to see the new Blasto vid was still lengthy even months after its release. The need to carry on through the catastrophe was something that crossed species, finding it easier to ignore the problem than accept what was happening. The commonality was strangely comforting, if there was any comfort to glean. At the very least, it was better than the mass panic in the streets after the attempted coup.

The back of Shepard’s neck prickled when she heard her name and rank off in the distance, a faint echo cutting through the din of the crowd. She turned o the source, facing a picture of herself on one of the many news screens that made up the large column a few paces in front of her. It was a familiar picture, the shot taken when she was sworn in as a Council Spectre, the first human to receive such an honour. Councilor Udina, the former human councilor, was flawlessly edited out of the picture—no doubt an attempt to keep his scandal at bay when tensions were at a galactic high—leaving the turian, asari, and salarian councilors to stare out at Shepard and Admiral Anderson behind her. It had only been three years ago (or, one for her), and even then the two of them looked noticeably younger, their dark skin smoother and untroubled by the enormity of their coming roles in history.

The next shot was of Thessia, the homeworld of the most powerful species in the galaxy toppled in a single swoop. Between the picture of her induction ceremony and this, Shepard didn’t have to hear the reporter to know what was being said: Commander Shepard had failed to save Thessia.

Almost as if on queue, she felt dozens of eyes fall upon her. Shepard had made the mistake of staying in place long enough that even species who had trouble telling humans apart could see who she was from the news screen. A torrent of voices descended on her at once, from the flanged voices of turians to the low rumble of an elcor. She couldn’t pick out a single sentence. It was a chorus of why’s and how’s, desperate for reasons or answers. it was an overwhelming visual representation of everything at stake, every species in the galaxy asking her questions and giving accusations.

The Commander put her hands out and up, a gesture she hoped everyone could recognize as a sign to settle down. The noise only grew as her silence stretched.

“Everyone!”

Her voice was calm but firm, and the shouting ceased. Now that she had everyone’s attention, she didn’t know what to do with it. Her mouth took care of it, opening automatically at her pause.

“I know things are beyond what any of us could have ever imagined. You’re afraid. You’re angry. I understand that.”

_Angry is right. If the Council just listened to me three years ago, we wouldn’t be here._

She felt tired even speaking her words to the crowd, the variation of an over-rehearsed speech exhausting. “It’s an understatement to say that we have all suffered loss when our homeworlds fall by the day.” An image of Vancouver flashed through her head, the Reapers shooting down exac shuttles and buildings as easily as ripping through we paper, and that metallic roar as a warning of what was to come.

“But we have to believe that we can do this. Everyone in the galaxy is united: from geth to quarians, to turians and krogan. We didn’t come all this way to go down without a fight. We’re not going to lay down and die the way the Reapers want us to. We’ll go, kicking and screaming until the end.”

Shepard recalled the image of Ashley reading her poetry books back on the _Normandy_ , sullen and shaking her head. _Rage, rage against the dying of the light, eh Commander?_

There were a few nods of approval and body language that she hoped was positive. Most people looked neutral. Everyone in the galaxy had heard variations of the same platitudes by now, in varying degrees of effectiveness. Shepard exhaled and saw her chance for an exit. “I’m sorry, but I have somewhere I have to be,” she lied.

The crowd parted to make way, her jaw tensing as she looked for a rapid transit station, punching in the first location that came to mind through the black spots in her vision. It had been a long time since she had been there: but nowhere else seemed more fitting than where she was headed.


	2. The Archangel

The wards were less decorative than most places of the Citadel. The occasional holographic displays were the only things that  stood out, illuminating the solid metal corridors in red and blue. Shepard blended in perfectly with the busy citizens who had too much on their mind, silently shuffling to their next destination without much of a care for anyone around them. Alliance personnel hardly looked out of place, especially where she was going.

Chora’s Den was one of the seedier clubs on the station: small, quiet, and prone to not uncommon levels of violence. That was likely because of the usual clientele—mostly human and turian—and the still fresh animosities from the First Contact War were magnified by alcohol. The krogan mercs usually put a quick end to any fight. No one was going to win against the gigantic, prehistoric looking krogan, their reptilian eyes leering at anyone who stared too long or said the wrong thing. They weren’t hired by the club: they just ended fights because they could.

Most patrons weren’t looking for trouble, however. They took to brooding at their tables, absentmindedly watching the asari dancers on the high central platform, their patterned tentacles crests shimmering. While the scattering of krogan did well to discourage fights, it was the asari dancers themselves who were the real bodyguards. Their routine was a disguised form of martial arts, and anyone who got too rowdy or handsy would end up on the floor or across the room, flung by their powerful biotics.

Shepard stepped up to the bar underneath the lip of the rounded dance platform, the pink lighting of the back walls making it hard to see the face of the bartender.

“Commander,” she said. A human. “What’ll it be?”

Shepard had to stop a sigh of relief that the bartender didn’t say anything more than that. “Akantha.” She brought up her omni-tool to pay her, making sure to leave extra credits for a generous tip. The bartender winked at her in thanks, and Shepard nodded her own as she took her drink.

The asari liquor was warm and smoky, making her body feel wrapped in a soft blanket. The aftertaste was quite sweet, balancing out the drink in a way that felt wholesome. It was no wonder it was Liara’s favourite. Shepard herself wanted something harder—batarian, maybe—but she didn’t need to have her head muddier than it already was.

Her grip tightened on her glass as a taloned hand touched her shoulder from behind. She felt the weight of her pistol folded inconspicuously in her holster, ready to grab it if necessary. For added measure, she called upon her biotics, a subtle purple field of dark energy coalescing in her hidden hand.

“Excuse me,” the flanged voice said in mock politeness. “Are you...spirits, are you Commander Shepard?”

She relaxed and smiled. She didn’t think she’d be happy to be recognized again today. “I don’t know. Depends on who’s asking,” she said playfully.

“Hmm. You might say I’m a bit of a fan.”

Shepard turned to face her turian friend, the bright lights painting his grey, avian bone plates a shade of purple. The right side of his face was heavily scarred from receiving a rocket to his face while they fought off three different gangs on Omega—something he liked to brag about more than anything.

“Vakarian,” Shepard said. “Didn’t think I’d see anyone here.”

“It’s the only quiet place for a drink. Relatively speaking.” Music blared around them, but it wasn’t the upbeat club music of Purgatory, or Afterlife on Omega. It was subdued and sensual for obvious reasons. “Although, I’d appreciate the company if you’re up for it. No hard feelings if you want to be alone...it looked like you were going to tear me apart.” He glanced towards Shepard’s now empty hand, her biotics dispersed.

No matter how she was feeling, she would never say no to Garrus. “Can’t be too sure. Luckily for you, I’ve always got time for a fan.”

Garrus shook his head and chuckled, leading her to a table in the corner where they could have some privacy. It was dark enough that no one would be able to pick them out easily, but in an open enough area that Garrus could keep track of who entered the bar. Sight lines were always something he brought into consideration, even casually.

“This is where it all started,” Garrus said, looking at the back door of the club. “Me, you, and Wrex, taking down Fist. Look at us now.”

“It sounds like the beginning of a joke. A human, turian, and krogan walk into a bar…”

“And what would the punchline to that be?”

“I don’t think that particular mission ended with one.”

“The look on your face when Wrex shot Fist was sort of funny...in retrospect.”

“If you say so,” Shepard said, exaggerating her sigh. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Well, technically—”

“I know, I know.” Both of them shook their heads, nostalgic.

“So, what brings you to the sorriest place on the Citadel?” Garrus said, leaning back in his chair. His glass was half empty with alcohol Shepard didn’t recognize—something dextro friendly.

“A sorry place for my sorry state,” Shepard said. She wasn’t going to bother with making up a story for Garrus. No one came to Chora’s den when they were in high spirits.

“It’s catching up to you.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah. You could say that. And I’m guessing that’s the reason you’re here too.”

Garrus shrugged. “From the way you look, I don’t think I’m feeling it anywhere near as badly as you are.”

She winced. “That obvious?”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think anyone could have kept it together as long as you have. Anyone else would have crumbled by now, and it’d be understandable.” He tried to catch Shepard’s eye, who was busy staring at the last of her drink. “What’s that saying? “You’re only human?””

“I tell myself that every day. But…” she finished off her glass.

Garrus used his friend’s pause to interrupt. “...But you’re only human. You’re doing the best you can, which is leagues better than anyone else’s.”

“Thanks, Garrus.” Shepard waved down one of the servers for a refill of akantha. “I just need to relax. It feels like I haven’t slept for three years.”

“Probably because you haven’t,” he said. “Shepard’s nightmares and lack of sleep were an open secret to everyone on the Normandy.

“You know what I mean.”

Garrus shifted uncomfortably. “Well, this party of yours you’re planning should be a good way to relieve some stress. We could all use it.”

“Everyone else is making the plans, honestly—I sort of got thrown into it. I just provide the snacks and drinks. Maybe some sushi.”

“I’m surprised there are any sushi places left after you destroyed the last one you entered,” Garrus joked.

“Hey, they shot at me!”

Garrus feigned surprise. “So you weren’t looking for an excuse to fall through a giant aquarium, and then several stories after that?”

“I just wanted to have a nice meal without having my life threatened. Just once!”

“That’ll be the day, Shepard.” He sipped on his alcohol. “Fish casualties aside, hopefully you’ll have something me and Tali can eat too. It’d be embarrassing to die of food poisoning before we see any real action.”

“Don’t worry. I got you covered.”

“You always do.” Garrus’ eyes narrowed slightly. Turian facial expressions were hard to read, but Shepard had been with him long enough to know when he was analyzing someone. “Maybe it’s different for humans, but you don’t seem too excited about the party.”

Shepard sighed. “We all know what this is, Garrus.”

Knowing what gave his Commander pause, he nodded. “Sure. It’s a wake. A lot of us aren’t going to make it. I don’t think anyone is fooling themselves about that.”

Between her nightmares and this, the prospect of losing more of her crew dug deep into Shepard’s chest. It was un uncomfortable reality that she faced, and she had lost more people than she could begin to count. The voices of her friends echoed in that same forest every night.

It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did, and normally she was able to maintain a healthy enough emotional distance to not have it affect her like it did now. Some turians believed in a group spirit, that each collection of souls were unique and manifested as a single entity. She wasn’t sure if it was true, but it was undeniable that the Normandy crew was special, connected in a way that defied any logical explanation. Losing one of them felt different, like losing a limb, something she couldn’t ignore.

So she would take the nightmares. It was better to be haunted than apathetic.

“You’re right.” Shepard gulped her second drink of akantha to prepare herself for her question, the server dutifully bringing her another glass. “Can I get your advice?”

An expression of surprise left Garrus for a millisecond before his face turned back to neutral. “Advice from a turian? You might not like what you hear.”

“Maybe. But it’s more about advice from a friend.”

His mandibles clicked outwards, a humble acknowledgement of Shepard’s appraisal. “Alright. But I’m not going to lie to make you feel better.”

Though meant as a joke, Shepard took his comment seriously. “I know, Garrus. You said it yourself: start getting old enough, and the platitudes get just as old. And I’ve given and taken enough.” She almost reached for her akantha before she thought better of it. “There’s no good way to put it. I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get to Earth. The realistic answer is that nothing will. We still don’t know what that Catalyst is, and even with every fleet united…” she looked up at Garrus. “Even if things work out, the losses are going to be unlike anything we’ve seen. Some of them could—will—be us.”

“And your question is how you’re supposed to deal with that?” asked Garrus, somewhat confused. “How did you manage before?”

Shepard groaned. “When you put it that way…”

He put his hand up. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re not wrong,” Shepard murmured and gave in to another drink of akantha. “It’s just the scale of it all. That, and you’re right—it’s catching up to me. No amount of training could have prepared anyone on how to handle this.”

“The way I see it,” Garrus said carefully, “we were going to die anyways. Before all of this, I put our chances at delusional at best.”  
“And now?”

His mandibles clicked again. “It’s crazy, but we just might pull this off. If we get that Prothean VI from Cerberus, we have a fighting chance. That’s worth something.”

“We’ll get that VI,” Shepard said with a growl.

“And you’re good enough that I believe you. All of us do. We hit the Collector base and lived to tell about it. You were dead for two years and came back. I don’t believe in miracles, but what we’ve done makes me reconsider.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’ve always wondered. When—uh. What was it like?”

Shepard tended. She still had flashbacks to that day. Falling in space while the first Normandy was torn apart in front of her, choking on her lungs as she smelled and tasted her flesh burning in the atmosphere. Jacob described what was left of her body as a collection of tubes, and Liara shuddered whenever she remembered seeing her remains. It was as Garrus said—it was a miracle she came back at all.

But it wasn’t the act of dying that got to her, as gruesome as it was. It was panic. It was regret. Worst of all, it was unceremonious, like Jenkins gunned down on Eden Prime without warning. After coming so far, it was pathetic to die because her helmet failed to pressurize.

“I wish I had a good answer for you. All I can say is I wouldn’t recommend it,” she said. “It wasn’t dying that was hard...which, it’s not one of my favourite things I’ve experienced. It was knowing there was so much I didn’t do and feeling that slip away.”

“And you’ve made the most of your second chance. Curing the genophage, getting Rannoch back, uniting the turians and krogan—any one of those things would have been impossible in one lifetime. For all of those to happen in a few months? That’s something only Commander Shepard could have done. And that’s not counting everything you did in your first life. I can remind you if you’d like.”

Shepard put a hand on Garrus’ shoulder, gripping firmly so he could feel it through his metal carapace. “You were there too. I couldn’t have done it without you.”  
“You don’t need to be humble for my sake. A squad is only as good as its leader, and you’re a damn good one,” he said, fondly mirroring Shepard’s gesture with a pat on the arm.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to lie to make me feel better,” she grinned.

“No lies here, Commander. I’ve walked through hell with you, and I’m happily doing it again. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” The humour fell off of him as soon as it arrived. “I’ve been thinking about what you said...about not reducing people to arithmetic.”

“And I stand by that.”

“I know, and it’s...I don’t know how how you do it. From the moment I came onto the Normandy, you always told me that there was another way. Saleon, Sidonis...I would have pulled the trigger if you hadn’t intervened. I would have considered the Dalatrass’ offer. You didn’t think about it for one second before saying no.”

“If I did, then what? We win the war and it’s back to how everything used to be. The krogan don’t win from that, and couldn’t live with myself if I made that choice,” Shepard said. “I couldn’t do that to Wrex.”

“That’s what sets you apart. You didn’t see numbers. To be under someone’s command who cares about that, even now...we’ve all followed orders, Shepard, and many of them from people who didn’t give a damn about the losses as long as they won. But you? We’re with you for the end, and we were with you even when the odds weren’t in our favour. Hope is hard to come by, and seeing you never lose sight of that is...it helps us more than you know, Commander.”

Talons wrapped around his glass, holding tight enough that Shepard thought it might break. “You weren’t happy with just winning. Before all of this, we fought because it was survival—now, it’s a choice. We have something waiting for us when this is all over, and we’re not afraid to die for it.”

Fire burned in his eyes, his determination rekindling her own. “I know it’s hard, Shepard but...don’t worry about us. We know what we signed up for. If I don’t make it, I’ll be happy to know that it was worth something. Mordin, Kaidan, Thane, Legion—they knew that. And I know that they’d say the same. You did right by them, Shepard. You could never fail any of us.”

Their names felt like an invocation, their absence felt even through the music and crowds of Chora’s Den. They weren’t ready to be buried—not yet. But when she raised her glass, she felt the ghosts of the past turn to a whisper.

“Who’s like us?”

Finally smiling, Garrus finished the human toast without missing a beat and raised his drink with hers. “Damn few. And they’re all dead.”

They sat in the darkness, a moment of silence as a subconscious sign of respect. Garrus hadn’t said anything Shepard hadn’t told herself. That was the thing with advice: it was rarely anything revolatory. Instead, it was reminders and saying the hard things they knew they had to face, but needing to hear it from a trusted friend. Garrus’ affirmations were surprising, but not wholly unexpected. She needed to hear that her crew still had faith in her. That the people she loved and cared about trusted her with their lives was daunting, but a source of strength as well. Shepard wanted to do right for her crew, for every person who had ever existed.

Guilt crept in as something selfish entered. Most of all, she wanted to do right by Liara. The colour drained from her face when she remembered the thoughts she refused to entertain when she woke up.

“As for everything else,” Garrus broke the silence. “T’Soni’s going to have to take over from here. I have a feeling you two have something to discuss.”

While talking with Garrus set her on the right track, she almost wished he hadn’t brought up Liara. There was no way that the Shadow Broker wouldn’t notice something was wrong when she returned, and Shepard was hoping her outing would alleviate her anxiety. Shepard didn’t want her to worry—a pointless endeavour for Liara as it was for herself—but she wasn’t going to make it worse by hiding it. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t know me so well, Garrus.”

Sensing Shepard’s discomfort, he looked away. “Worrying about someone you love is different than your friends. It doesn’t mean you care about them less it’s just...different. I know that.”

It was Shepard’s turn to see through Garrus. “It’s Tali, isn’t it?”

The flange in his voice fluctuated more than normal, embarrassed. “No—I’m just… speaking. In general.”

“Uh huh,” Shepard crossed her arms. The two of them weren't exactly known for their subtlety. They were cute together, Shepard had to admit. It was a fairy-tale ending right out of Fleet and Flotilla, which, coincidentally, was a vid Garrus and Tali both adored.

Not wanting to push him further if he wasn’t ready to say anything, she changed the subject. “Hey. Thanks for talking to me. I needed to hear that.”

Thankful for the segue, he dipped his head in respect. “Any time, Shepard. You’ve listened to me go on about my own problems more times than I can count. It’s the least I could do.”

Shepard looked at him, the warmth cutting through the cold blue light. “Who’s counting?”


	3. The Shadow Broker

Shepard spent the rest of the day without incident. There were a few things she got out of the way, picking up party supplies and finally getting the haircut she desperately needed. By the time she returned to her apartment, the akantha had thankfully worn off. Liara’s drone assistant, Glyph, floated in front of her and bobbed in a motion that let Shepard know to remain silent. Pricking her ears, she heard sound coming from the study, catching a few stray words.

“I don’t care,” Liara said, her words ice. Her speech was masked by a voice changer, making her sound as chilling as her title. Scarier still was that Shepard could hear Liara’s sweet, natural voice as well as the modified one on top of it. Listening to her make threats as herself was more alarming than any air of mystery the unfortunate client on the other end had to deal with.

Careful to not make any noise, Shepard stood still, hoping Liara was nearing the end of her call.

“One galactic standard day to—” she heard next, “—suffer the consequences—” then finally, “Shadow Broker out.”

Presumably she had ended her meeting, as Glyph started spinning normally and moved beside Shepard. “Greetings, Commander!”

“Glyph,” she said. The drone was annoying, but after it saved her and the rest of the _Normandy_ crew from being locked away in the Citadel archives, she tried to be less gruff when speaking to it. She owed it that, at least.

A flash of blue entered her peripheral vision, Liara rounding the corner and eagerly making her way towards her bondmate.

“Shepard.” Liara wrapped her arms around her neck, standing on the tips of her feet so she could reach.

“I was hoping you’d be here,” said Shepard, accepting a quick kiss from Liara.

“I saw you leaving Chora’s Den, so I came back.”

 _Always the Shadow Broker,_ thought Shepard. That was something she didn’t think she could get used to. It was a far cry from the shy archeologist she rescued from Therum three years ago. “Spying on me?” she said with a grin.

“Making sure you don’t run into another batch of clones.” Liara’s arms fell away to hold Shepard’s han, bringing her to the brown leather sofa in front of the fireplace. She ran her hand through Shepard’s now short hair, massaging her fingertips at the top of her scalp. “I see you got a haircut.”

“Yeah. It feels strange when I see it grow out.”

“I was beginning to get used to it,” Liara said.

“If I concentrate hard enough, maybe I can get it to grow back.” Shepard said.

Liara drew her fingers across Shepard’s jawline, gazing at her with a soft smile. “That won’t be necessary.” She sat back on the couch and folded her hands over her crossed legs. “Did you have fun with Garrus?”

“You know us.”

She looked at Shepard, frowning. “Is everything alright?”

Even with knowing that she’d ask, Shepard still wasn’t prepared to have the inevitable conversation about it. She squeezed Liara’s hand to reassure her. “It will be. I just need a good night’s sleep.”

Easier said than done, and Liara knew it more than anyone. She had been woken up by Shepard’s fitful sleep dozens of times. The worst of Shepard’s nightmares—the vision from the Prothean beacon—was one that she had seen in their first meld. Together, they watched the fall of Prothean civilization, a warning sent 50 000 years into the future that no one heeded until it was too late.

Part of her wanted to be able to keep her biggest fears secret from Liara so she wouldn’t be worried, and, because of the joining, experience it for herself. There was nothing Shepard could hide in the meld, but not from a lack of choice. Liara would never push through thoughts that Shepard didn’t want her to see. But there was something wonderful and honest in sharing in each other’s sadness and joy. There was no greater comfort—but sometimes, there was value in just talking.

“You’re worried about us,” Liara said.

“There’s a lot of “us” I’m worried about.  Garrus helped with a few of those.”

“He’s a good friend. You need him, and he needs you too.”

“I know,” Shepard said. “Right now, it’s you I’m worried about.”

“Shepard?”

Hesitating, Shepard pulled her hands away, rubbing them together nervously. “It’s nothing you haven’t heard or felt before.”

Liara cupped her hand on Shepard’s cheek, pressing her forehead against hers. “And I’m here to listen again. You can always talk to me.”

Shepard closed her eyes and felt a gentle touch at the back of her neck, Liara’s consciousness reaching to hers, ready to join with her if she accepted it. She almost did, but stopped short and mentally pulled back. When she looked, Liara’s eyes were completely black.

“Not right now,” Shepard said. “I need to talk about it out loud.”

With a slow blink, Liara’s eyes returned to their regular, bright blue. “Of course.”

It took a minute for Shepard to gather herself. It was difficult to coax the words out, as if hearing her fears voiced through her own mouth would make them a reality. “I thought about the future—our future. How we could live here. If we had children, there’d be more than enough space.”

Liara knew where Shepard was going with her train of thought, and her look of encouragement beckoned her to continue.

“Today, that scared me. It never does. The thought of having a life with you gets me through the worst days. Now I’m not sure that’ll happen.” A surge of emotion bit at her heart when she saw Liara’s expression falter.

“Garrus reminded me that if we didn’t fight, we’d be dead anyways. He’s right. But it doesn’t make it any easier.” The pressure in her head was starting to make her lightheaded, her breaths becoming erratic in an attempt to shed the weight against her chest. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Shepard felt Liara’s gentle hand on her arm, trying to keep her grounded in the present. “Shepard?”

“Yeah. I’m…” she didn’t know, and couldn’t finish her sentence even if she did. Her hands were shaking again.

She shouldn’t feel this way. This was something she thought about often—more of a fact than a fear, something that needed a contingency plan—without losing control like this. She was the one who reassured Liara that she would always come back, the one who brought up the idea of having children together. It was hypocritical that she should doubt it now, to be looking for Liara to comfort her about the same thing.

 _Every day after_ is what she told her. How could she promise something like that?

Terror coursed through every nerve and vein, the world closing in around her and threatening to swallow her whole. When Shepard begin choking on her own air, she was suddenly back in time, feeling her helmet leak and struggling in vain to do anything to stay alive.

Shepard felt Liara’s touch a plane of reality away, light enough to let her know she was there for her without making her feel smothered.

“I’m here,” Liara whispered. “This will pass and you will be okay.”

Shepard felt herself tilt her head forward, trying to communicate with Liara. This shouldn’t be happening. How could anyone look to her for anything when she was breaking down like this? People were counting on her. Liara was counting on her. What if the optimism that drove her for all of these years was just naïveté, and she was making everyone believe in a lie that she convinced herself of? She felt fine after she talked with Garrus. Why was this happening now?

“I want you to take deep breaths,” Liara’s voice cut through her racing thoughts. “Can you do that for me?”

Managing a nod, Shepard made a conscious effort to count her inhales and exhales.

_Liara’s here. This will go away. This will pass. Liara’s here. This is temporary. It’s okay. Liara’s here. Breathe._

After what seemed like eternity, her breaths finally slowed, her hands numb but finally stilled from their shaking.

“Do you need anything?” Liara asked, sensing Shepard was lucid enough to speak.

“Water. Please.”

Liara’s hand lingered as she stood up. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Shepard opened and closed her hands, trying to get blood circulating properly through her stiff arms. Liara returned as promised and placed the ceramic cup in her hand.

“I know you want to be honest with me, and I appreciate that. However...if you don’t want to continue with this conversation, we don’t have to. I know how difficult it is.”

It was tempting. Shepard didn’t necessarily bottle her emotions in, but she didn’t leap at the chance to divulge what she was thinking unless prompted. Though the crew of the _Normandy_ would not think any less of her if she did, realistically, she knew she had to keep some air of confidence. A leader who was falling apart at the seams affected morale—something everyone couldn’t afford to lose now. Even Garrus needed some display of assuredness that wasn’t always genuine from her.

But letting it fester was what got her here in the first place. All the build up of pain and fear went unchecked for long enough that it finally reared its head at the worst opportunity. She had to relieve herself of it somehow. “I want to keep going, if you're okay with it. I just… need a few minutes.”

“Take your time. I’m right here,” Liara said, rubbing small circles on Shepard’s back.

Shepard focused her attention on the sensation, letting Liara’s presence sooth her until she felt like she could speak again. When she finished her water, she carefully set the cup on the coffee table and sighed. “I’m just...scared.” Bitter at the obvious, she laughed at herself. “As you can see.”

“It’s okay to be afraid,” said Liara. “I am too.”

Needing to be closer, Shepard sunk her head into the crook of Liara’s neck, letting her voice reverberate through her body, her reassurances reaching to her bones.

“When you died...Goddess, it broke me. I knew you were coming back, but it seemed so impossible to hope for something like that. I mourned for two years, and I still grieved even when I saw you again. Everything was so sudden.” Liara paused and rested her head on top of Shepard’s. “Do you remember what I told you when we first met? About asari and their relationships with shorter-lived species?

Gone were the days where Liara’s speech was so robotic and precise that even Shepard’s translator picked up on it. Despite how she felt, Shepard allowed herself a quick smile. It was adorable whenever Liara slipped back to her less colloquial way of speaking.

At Shepard’s acknowledgement, Liara continued. “We look to the future, sometimes too much. But we know we have to cherish every moment with the ones we love while we still have them. Imagine how miserable an asari life would be if we thought about everyone who will leave before us.” Liara wrapped her arms around Shepard’s back, as if demonstrating her point. “I was heartbroken. But in time, I was okay. It was painful, but we all moved on in our own way. I’m sorry if that sounds cold, but…”

“It isn’t. I understand,” Shepard said. “It’s what I would have wanted. When it was happening...I thought about a lot of things. I thought about how I wanted you to be able to move on. I didn’t—don’t—want you to hurt like that.”

“The same goes for you,” she said with caution. Shepard knew what was implied. Should the unthinkable happen to Liara, she would have to find the strength to move on too—for her sake and for Liara’s.

“Whatever happens...I will always be a part of you. No one ever truly leaves us,” Liara said, her voice wavering.  “For all that was uncovered on Thessia, I still believe that to be true.”

Liara’s eyes darkened more with each word, the need to meld growing as tears began to form. “Because I felt you with me, even when you were gone. Nothing will ever take you away from me.”

With a choked sob, Shepard opened her mind, letting Liara in at last. “Please.”

She didn’t keep her waiting.

“Embrace eternity.”

* * *

 

It took Shepard a moment to get her bearings. Some things were familiar, like the carefully trimmed grass of the Alliance base in Vancouver, the pruned plants and smell of spring flowers in the Pacific air.

It was the view on the horizon that confused her. The buildings were the sleek curves of asari architecture, the same ones she caught a brief glimpse of on Thessia, perfect and unmarred by destruction. She sensed Liara beside her, who looped her arm through hers, leaning her head on her shoulder. Emotions flew by like a gentle breeze, all of the sadness, loneliness, and guilt felt as a physical presence. Some of them Shepard recognized as hers.  Others were unquestionably Liara’s subtle and tempered, wise beyond her years.

Above it all, a surge of affection and comfort, reaching through Liara’s hand and through Shepard’s body, as part of her as her own blood. She sent her love back, their feelings their own yet intertwined as the meld deepened.

 _We have each other right now,_ Liara spoke in Shepard’s head. _Every day I’ve spent with you will always be worth it. No amount of grief would ever make me regret you._

Breathing in the Earthen air, Shepard slowly turned to face Liara as she took her hands in hers.

_I love you._

She didn’t know if it was herself or Liara who said it, but it didn’t matter anymore. “I” ended where “us” began. Liara’s breaths filled her own lungs, their heartbeats moving in a unified rhythm.

_I’m here._

_Always._

A Thessian bird sang in a tree beside them, a sense of recognition from Liara’s memory making it sound as familiar to Shepard as it did to her. They heard the sea as they kissed, the sound fading away too soon as Liara took them out of the meld.

Back in the physical world, Shepard wiped her eyes and kissed her bondmate again. “Thank you.”

“You too. Thank you.”

Stress left Shepard’s system on each exhale, allowing herself to think clearly. All of it would never be quelled, not entirely. Garrus and Liara gave her a place to start, their concern and words of compassion a floor to stand on before she fell too deep to catch herself.

The thoughts that Shepard had previously pushed away came back, victorious. This time, it filled her with the same excitement she always felt, hopeful about the life that awaited her.

“You know,” Shepard grinned. “Wrex wants us to name one of our kids after him. Something about being in touch with their krogan roots.”

The topic caught Liara off guard, but she seemed pleasantly surprised. “Oh? I was thinking something more human.”

“And I was thinking something more asari. That’s what they’ll be after all.”

“I’m sure we’ll reach a compromise. I hear you’re quite good at that.”

“Who? With you or Wrex?”

“Wrex will need more convincing than I do. He seems quite enthusiastic about how I’m a quarter krogan. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that’s technically not how it works.”

“Which is why it should be an asari name,” insisted Shepard.

Liara laughed, light and untroubled. “We will have plenty of time to think about it.”

The prospect of a family still brought fears, but this time, they were of the pleasant variety: it was the wish to be a good parent and a caring partner, that she gave them the love they needed to grow. She allowed herself to dream of that future, and all of the peaks and valleys that would come with it.

“How do you think your father will react?” asked Shepard, holding back a chuckle.

Liara gave a disgusted sigh, pressing her hand on her forehead. “We hadn't even known each other for fifteen minutes before she asked about it… in a manner of speaking. I can see why the other matriarchs find her…”

“Blunt?”

“That’s a generous way of putting it,” Liara said, shaking her head. Matriarch Aethyta was bold and crass, never bothering to censor herself. Shepard decided she liked her.

“She’ll be happy. I believe you’d say over the moon about it,” said Liara. “I think she sees it as a way to make amends with me.”

“How do you feel about it?” Shepard asked.

“I understand her reasons for not being around. It was… hard for her when she and my mother parted ways.” Liara said. “What about your mother? Will she… ”

Humans were still getting used to the idea of interspecies couplings. Even with asari-human relationships being the more accepted of them, there was still a general unease, and would be for a while. Shepard was surprised when she found the opposite was true for asari, that purebloods—like Liara—were subject to condescending remarks. Shepard’s mother was always open-minded, and only reacted with happiness when she found out about her daughter's relationship.  

“She’ll love them. She already loves you.”

Though she already knew as much, Liara looked relieved.

“So, do you think they’ll take after you?” said Shepard. “They might start digging in the Presidium gardens for artifacts, then turn out to be a brilliant, trailblazing scientist at the age of 106.”

“Perhaps they’ll inherit your flattery too,” Liara teased.

“And we could put them in music lessons. They could learn piano like you. Or a Thessian instrument. Whatever they want.”

“I'm afraid my musical abilities are quite lacking. It will take a lot of practice on their end.”

“It’s okay,” Shepard said, enthusiastic. “I learned how to play trumpet when I was a kid. Maybe it’ll even out.”

“I wasn’t aware you played an instrument! ” Liara said.

“Really?”

Her eyes rolled in fake offense. “I don’t go rooting around your files _that_ much. I like to leave something new to learn about you.”

“When this is all over, I’ll show you. I’m a bit rusty, so you’ll have to deal with a few rough notes.”

Liara beamed. “I would like that.”

The grand piano caught the corner of Shepard’s eye, a sudden desire sweeping through her. “That song you played… can I hear it?”

Before Liara could bring up her omni-tool, Shepard brushed her wrist and smiled. “From you.”

The look in Liara’s eyes told Shepard all she needed to know. Untangling herself from Shepard’s embrace, she stepped up to the piano and sat down on the heavy bench, pressing on the sustain pedal and hovering her hands over the keys.

Delicate fingers slid across the ivory, careful and considered. There was a pause before each chord, a slow in tempo at each run of notes: but it was beautiful, the emotion heard in each press and release through the uncertainty. It was the sound of somewhere far away yet familiar, an old memory recalled with longing. As the music carried through the space of the apartment, Shepard knew that it was the music she wanted to hear all along.


End file.
